Death is a Fairy Tale
by Aerolysia
Summary: It is not always as it seems. Bellatrix Lestrange has been under the Dark Lord's control for too long. She has finally found the will to fight back. But will she be accepted back amongst the other wizards if she turns against her master? Will they believe her story.


**It is in my head I couldn't help myself. Non-Canon. And I'm not sure if it's going to be a Bella/Hermione. If there is romance it will be those two I'm just not sure how the story will go right now. It's just been in my head for the longest. Will follow some plot but I'm tearing the last book apart for my own enjoyment. (Characters are all WBs and JK Rowling's I only wish I owned them.) Oh even if no Bellamione there will be no Ron Hermione. Never looked like that would last in the movies. Only a little believable in the books.**

It hurt. The pain was excruciating. She lay on the dirty stone ground writhing with the ebb and flow of the constant spasms that wracked her lithe body. Even her mind felt fractured. Shards of glass chipping away at her. It hurt so bad, she knew if she just let go. If she stopped fighting it, stopped fighting his control the pain would cease. But she couldn't do that. She hadn't been her in so long. So very long.

Even when he was weak and near death he controlled her. Suffocating all the sane thoughts and filling her with a violent need for pain, hers or anyone else's it didn't matter. All she needed was pain.

Now he was as powerful as he had ever been and she was so nearly free of him. All because she hadn't wanted to hurt that mudblood. She had ultimately done as his voice commanded.

The Dark Lord. Always within her. An experiment of his that had gone wrong, left him within her much like he'd done to the Potter boy. She'd been too young, too afraid of her father to deny him. Too afraid they'd try it on her sisters.

Like a parasite he'd clung to her mind. Picking away at it until it was weak enough for him to take over. And when he was too weak for even a body he left his mind inside hers. She may have been driven insane by dementors but it was an easy guess he'd driven her mad long before she'd ever been taken to that horrid place.

He was angry now. She'd never fought him so hard before. The pain he inflicted, the confusion, was usually enough to have her caving. Not this time. She wanted him out. She didn't care if it cost her life. She hadn't been free since she was fifteen years old. He wasn't going to rule her any longer. Her sisters could take care of themselves now. It was time for Bellatrix Lestrange to take care of herself.

~H~

Fleur helped Hermione bandage her arm properly. The French woman clearly upset by the crude injury, she did everything possible to heal it or at least fade out the writing. Hermione thought it might bother the Veela more than it actually bothered her, except for the pain at least. She laid her hand on the woman's shoulder and smiled as best she could around the trauma and loss of the evening.

"Thank you." Fleur nodded sadly. "Harry?"

"He…..he went to burry the elf. Dobby." Fleur said, making sure to say his name. They owed the brave little creature their lives. No one was going to disrespect his memory.

She nodded solemnly. Part of her wanted to help Harry but she knew her help wouldn't be welcomed. Harry was grieving in his own way for the house elf. She wasn't going to interfere.

She checked on him from the window, it took a moment before she saw the rise and fall of his shoulders and the bobbing of his long shaggy hair as he dug. She wanted to make sure he was alright, but that was stupid because none of them were alright. Even if they won the bloody war she knew they would never be able to recover from what had happened to them. From what they had done.

She couldn't stand to watch him for a moment longer and made her way up the stairs to where she knew Ron was waiting with the goblin. Olivander had been given a spare room to himself so he could recover from his time at the manor. Hermione didn't want to think about what they had done to him while trying to get answers.

She glanced at the closed door and decided against checking in on the wand maker. If he was actually getting any sleep she didn't want to disturb him. And Bill was in there with him if he needed anything anyways.

She pushed open the cracked door opposite and nodded to Ron. He made move to stand, nervous about what to do around her, but sat back down sullenly when she shook her head. She knew they could hear her being tortured. Knew they couldn't have helped but part of her was bitter all the same that she had the brand on her arm and they got away unscathed. She was ashamed of that part but there was nothing she could do about it. In any case she didn't need his comfort or his pity.

"How is everything?"

The goblin, she couldn't remember his name, scoffed up at her but the glanced down at the bloody bandage on her arm. It was going to bleed for a while, nothing she could do about it, cursed blades did that. He met her eyes with something akin to respect. He would have expected her to cower, cry a bit or wail about the unfairness. At the very least sink into lover boy's arms for comfort. She did none of that. True she was in shock at the manor. But once she got away from the place she kicked into gear. If only she'd been able to help Dobby when Harry had asked. But nothing could cure the horrible writing on her arm just like nothing could have saved Dobby from the dagger in his chest.

Harry pushed in the door behind her. He must have been covering Dobby when she'd seen him out the window. He was dirty and bloody and his glasses were lopsided on his ears. She didn't try to fix it. Honestly she just didn't feel like it. And she didn't have her wand regardless.

"Alright?" He asked. Ron and Hermione nodded. The goblin looked up at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You're a strange wizard Harry Potter."

She didn't think Harry was going to respond for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"You buried the elf." He said simply.

"He was my friend, Mr. Griphook." Harry replied just as simply. Hermione blinked. So that had been his name. "I have a question for you." Griphook inclined his head to let them know he was listening. "I-We need to break into Gringots."

The goblin snorted. "You think your gold is there? You couldn't use it even if you got to it boy."

"You misunderstand. I need to break into Gringots. More importantly. I need to get into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault."

Ron and Hermione stared at their friend in shock. Whatever plan he had come up with he obviously hadn't had time to share it with them. The had already done some crazy things, breaking into the ministry number one on the list but breaking into the wizarding bank was going to top even that. It had never been done. At least not successfully.

Griphook, for his part did not look all that surprised. "Is this about the sword?" Harry hesitated but eventually nodded. "Yes…she was awfully sure the real one was in her vaults. But you have the real one." Harry nodded again. There was no use in trying to fool a goblin, they had made the thing after all. And he had covered for them in the manor, Harry felt he owed him honesty if nothing else. "Why would you be willing to break in for a fake sword?" Griphook mused.

"Not the sword. Something else. Something just as important that could help us end the war. Help us kill the Dark Lord once and for all." Hermione realized what he meant. She was surprised she hadn't caught on to it like he had. Maybe she wasn't quiet her self yet.

Ron of course still looked clueless. "She was very interested in anything else we took remember." The red head shuddered. She could sympathize not wanting to recall the events with Lestrange but she had more reason than him. "There must be something in there. Something He tasked her with protecting. That's why they didn't call him to us in the beginning." That's what had saved their lives because if Voldemort had showed up they would likely all been dead. Or at the least begging for it.

She gave up trying to explain it, the blank look on Ron's face made it clear he didn't understand. Maybe he was still in a state of shock after the days events. She was irritated but she couldn't blame him. She wasn't much better, Harry seemed to be the only one still in full control of himself.

"I'll help you. But I want the sword afterwards." This gave them pause. They needed it to destroy the horcruxes. Without it they were back to square one. With a vile magical artifact and no way to destroy it.

"Once we're finished-"

"No after I help you into the bank. I've learned not to be too trusting of the words of wizards." She wanted to be angry. But she couldn't find the fault in his words. After all she'd been campaigning for house elf rights for years and no one was listening. Not even the elves. She knew full well most wizards cared about only themselves. Or at the most others of their kind. Griphook didn't know them well enough to know Harry would make sure he got the sword afterwards.

Honestly he might be right to demand it after Gringots. There was no way to assure he would get it if he let them leave with it. They never expected to live through the war. It was something unspoken amongst them. Something that clung to every decision they made. They knew they were only trying to live to the next horcrux. They didn't necessarily have to be the ones that killed the Dark Lord. They only had to make it possible for him to die.

Harry looked at both of them. They both nodded subtly. "Alright. After you get us into her vault I'll give you the sword."

"Security is likely to be tight." He warned. His way of letting them know they were likely walking to their deaths. They all knew that. They'd known since year four it was going to come down to this. It was everyone else who had been in denial.

"I think I might have a way around that." Hermione said. "We need to see Olivander. Bring the wands we got from-" she couldn't say. "Just bring the wands." Harry nodded and they followed her across the hall. She didn't knock.

Olivander was sitting up in bed, albeit gingerly. It looked as if every breath the old wand maker took was painful likely it was. It couldn't be helped. If they were going to pull it off, the plan Hermione had hatched only moments before, they would need his help.

Bill didn't need to be told they needed privacy. They all knew he would be willing to help but the less who knew of their plans the better. And he had his own job to do, protecting the cottage and those that stumbled upon it in need of aide.

"Be careful, he is weak. He needs rest." He told them gently. Hermione took his seat while Ron closed the door behind his brother. He leaned his long frame up against it afterwards. Harry sat down carefully on the bed and spread the wands our cautiously on the bedspread. He remember what happened the last time he'd messed with wands that hadn't chosen him. He didn't really fancy blowing a whole in the shack's wall.

"We need to know if these are safe to use." Harry told the wand maker.

Olivander picked them up individually, bending them and eying them with the eyes of a skilled wand maker. It was almost as if they spoke to him. And perhaps they did, not many people understood the art of wand making. He handed Harry one, "this one answers to you, Mr. Potter. I believe it belonged to Mr. Malfoy."

"What do you mean? I thought the wands chose the wizards. How can this one be mind when it chose Malfoy."

Olivander smiled through his pain and explained carefully, as if he were talking to a child. They took no offence because it was something the didn't know. "I told you wands chose the wizards. You must have defeated Malfoy in a duel and the wands allegiance shifted. Such is the way of wands. Many famous wands have had many different owners. Most have .…rather bloody pasts mind you." He picked up another and shook his head. "Unbending…." He muttered and glance over at Hermione. "This wand belongs to Bellatrix. I would not use it unless absolutely necessary if I were you. It has done enough against the will of it's owner. It has become…." He hesitated. "Rather warped."

"Against the will?" Olivander shook his head.

"I do not know. I can tell you only what the wand tells me." They couldn't imagine Bellatrix doing anything against her will but they didn't have the time to worry about the Dark Lord's Lieutenant.

"So wands can change allegiance. Can you tell me where is the wand He was after. I know it was the elder wand. I also know someone stole it from Gregorovich."

"Then you know near more than I do boy. I do not know where the elder wand is. And aside from it being the most powerful and infamous wand in existence I could not tell you why He Who Must Not Be Named wants it." Olivander told them.

"Think that's enough mate." Ron said. "Like you said it's the most powerful wand in existence. Isn't he all about power."

"Perhaps. But he would have to win it fairly from it's master. Or the wand would not reach it's full potential."

Harry thought about someone powerful enough to have owned the wand. Someone who had obviously kept it to themselves and not gone mad crazy and killed a bunch of people in a rage. Whoever had won the elder wand had to be extremely powerful…they would be nearly unbeatable….

He sucked in a breath. "I know who had the wand. And I'm betting so does the Dark Lord." They all looked at him expectantly.

"Dumbledore. He's the only wizard powerful enough."

Hermione shook her head. "If he knows then we are already too late. We can't stop him from taking the wand and get into Bellatrix's vault." Olivander raised his eyes brows in shock but kept quiet. His part in the war was hopefully over. He wasn't going to inject himself into the three teenagers plans. They had been fighting the Dark Lord longer than most this time around if rumors were to be believes.

Harry rubbed his scar irritably. "We will go to Gringots. We will be too late for the wand anyway. And hopefully it won't work, like you said he had to win it. He didn't kill Dumbledore." Something stirred in Harry's mind. He glanced down at the wand in his hand. The wand that belonged to Draco, that belonged to him now. He hadn't killed Draco.

"Alright," Ron pushed himself off the door frame and stood to his full height. "So how we getting into Gringots?"


End file.
